Yet another Niger passport check before reaching the border of NIGERIA.

I wonder how many people have marked their entry into Nigeria by singing 'See amid the winter snow' in the customs office (in a temperature of 28C). Such was our lot this morning. While I was completing formalities (it was the day before our entry permits expired), officials were softly humming carols to themselves; a rendering of 'Winter snow' was a rather different tune from ours, so I invited the rest of the family in to give them our own version accompanied by Marion on the Melodica. Officialdom was delighted. We all then joined in 'O come all ye faithful' which they applauded, and we were soon on our way with a "Welcome to Nigeria."

It seemed almost like getting home again. 'Halt at Major Road ahead' said the signs, '30' meant 30 miles per hour, a 'narrow bridge' sign was very familiar, and of course we could speak (and sing) to everyone in English. But we did have to keep driving on the right, as they have been doing for 8 months now. There are still 20 shillings to the pound, but Decimal Day is only 3 weeks away, when there will be 100 kobos to the naira. A naira will be 10/-, not 1 pound, just to make a nice confusion with the British system.

We are in the Harmattan, the dust-laden wind off the desert, which is what we have been having for the last few days, and can still expect for many more.

So, after 112 miles today, we reach Kano, the capital of northern Nigeria, and the goal of our desert crossing.. A large sprawl of unimpressive townscape with open market and industrial areas. Once again travelling hopefully has been better than arriving, but at least we had high hopes of the Kano Club. We arrived there at 3pm and all became weekly members (children free). Swimming pool, showers, cheap restaurant and drinks. We were soon relaxing with tankards of ICED orange and lemon, thinking, amongst other things, of that hot water we had had to drink at Assamaka in the middle of the desert.

But the came the real disappointment of the day. We were not allowed to camp at the club. Banned, it seems, because of abuse of its facilities by some parties. So we retreat to a semi-official site on a patch of waste land by a railway line (incidentally the first sign of a railway since Djelfa). It could be worse; it is less than half a mile from the club. But it means taking down tents and packing up each day, although the site is guarded by night in a rather ramshackle way for which one has to pay 10/-. We paid the man who appeared to be in charge, who introduced us to the guard. Later the guard demanded his 10/- too. "The other is a crook", he told us., He did not get it. Several people approached us eager to change money, and the 'official' offered to introduce us to those (friends of his) with the best exchange rates. However, we have ample money for the moment, having illegally imported a goodish amount while carolling with the customs this morning.

Marion had an evening out on her own to see an Alec Guinness thriller at the open air cinema at the club. Bo and I allowed this, as we wanted to take Peter to something more suitable tomorrow.

Dec 12.

Insects active in the night, and we woke at 5.30 to the sound of our burglar alarm and looked out to see someone escaping over a low wall, apparently being chased by the guard. The alarm had paid for itself at last ! But we did soon discover the loss of a pullover and anorak (the one Marion had 'acquired' in the desert) from inside the tent, which must have disappeared earlier in the night. When the 'caretaker' came on duty for the day, he was apologetic and said the guard would get the sack.

After breakfast we moved back to the club for the morning. Leaving Bo and the children there, Marion and I had a business morning, collecting a goodly amount of mail, reporting our loss to the police for insurance purposes, going to the bank, finding a few shops including the Kingsway Centre, the super supermarket that we had been told would supply us with everything. Back to the club for a swim and a celebratory restaurant lunch -- uninspiring chicken, steak, omelettes (none too hot), ice creams, iced beer and iced orange (deliciously cold). Reading letters and opening Christmas cards was a lovely relaxing occupation. When we felt strong enough afterwards, back to the camp site to work: that is to say, a grand spring clean of the vehicle. An unpleasant job. By the time we had finished the immediate vicinity was overlaid with an appreciable proportion of the Sahara Desert.

During the evening we were visited by a bicycle load of souvenirs for sale, including some very attractive ebony carvings. We don't really want to be lumbered with much of this sort of thing, A set of wooden salad servers was offered for 3 pounds sterling. I offered 1 pound to show that I was not really interested. We both laughed heartily at this 'ridiculous' price. Five minutes later they were mine -- for 1 pound. I think there was a little disappointment when this giveaway bargain failed to lead to more sales.

After a late tea (Lyons Swiss roll from Kingsway), Bo, Peter and I went off for our night out. 'Round the World in 80 Days' at the open air cinema. Rather appropriate, we thought. We had taken 73 days to get this far. Thoroughly enjoyed by Peter and re-enjoyed by Bo and myself. We were glad we had taken rugs to combat the 11C temperature. Peter's first (and probably last) experience of a cinema show finishing with 'The Queen' (and the Nigerian national anthem). It took Bo and me back a few years. And everyone stayed standing, instead of trying to slink out before the end as used to happen at home. Back to camp at midnight.

During the day Marion saw what she called the 'mousebird', like a large long-tailed tit with brown back, and head with broad dark eye-streak. Also some green cockatoo-like birds. Vultures inhabit our overlooking trees, and a flight of large bats flew over at dusk.

Tonight our camp 'caretaker' has assured us that he is guarding us himself, rather ostentatiously we think, but we have moved tents a little nearer to the only other camping party, a Hughes Overland group on their way to South Africa. They have paid a Touareg guard for themselves, the most reliable safeguard, they say -- a desert, rather than an urban type.

Dec 13.

Another day based at the Kano Club, and at last a really hot one with the absence of the Harmattan wind and the sun shining clearly. 27C.

Marion, unfortunately, now unwell. Peter's complaint, presumably. She managed a children's school session before going to the club, but thereafter spent the day lying on a mattress in the shade. Better by the evening. A treat for Jennifer and Timothy today as compensation for not going to the cinema. Bo took them to the Kingsway store where 'Father Christmas is now in his Grotto'; he was black and bearded and they were delighted with the bags of plastic presents they received, and just as delighted with seeing all the toys and decorations in the shop. All except Marion had a swim before lunch, this being a picnic beside the pool.

I located the vicar of St. George's church and the office of the British Commission and had interesting talks with both. In the afternoon was children's church. Peter and Jennifer watched a Nativity play rehearsal and joined in carols, while Timothy joined a story group outside under a lime tree. Very much a British affair.

Jennifer provides another diary entry: "At the Kano Club we have ice in our orange. We can swim there and plaid in the sand. It is nearly Christmas time now. I have made two Christmas cards. I played with a little girl at the Kano Club."

Dec 14.

Marion decidedly better but eating little.

Even warmer today. Another day of useful activities, swimming, writing, schoolwork, washing, shopping, vehicle repairs (but only a bit of welding, and brazing a jerrican). Bo and I had an interesting time in the market; vegetables and fruit strewn all over the ground made walking difficult, but managed to buy several things at about 2/3 the asking price by bargaining. But still not specially cheap. Meat only available in the two supermarkets. Bread very poor quality, all polythene-bagged and soft and slightly sweet. Most of us are enjoying it, but I find myself longing for the crisply-crusted French version that we have been used to until now. Marion found a 'Sudan Interior Mission' bookshop and a few useful books: local butterflies and moths, lilies and orchids, and W. African agriculture. Kano a very African town with few streets of modern blocks of offices or flats.

Dec 15.

Disaster. Two 100-dollar notes that I had been persuaded to receive for a traveller's cheque yesterday were found to be forgeries. 70 pounds worth.

Dec 16.

Position somewhat alleviated when one of my notes was accepted for about 10 pounds worth of souvenirs from one of the bicycle 'shops' that haunted the camp site. Mostly carved wooden objects that we are quite pleased to have and would not otherwise have purchased. The other note was changed for 28 pounds by some shady character that the camp site caretaker took me to in the back streets of 'lower' Kano. Both these gentlemen were fully aware that the notes were bad, so I feel that my doings have not been more illegal than necessary. The notes now useful for passing on to the next convenient tourist, I suppose. An unpleasant insight into the corruption that I must admit we had been warned of.

Apart from that my morning was spent mostly on an exhausting exhaust flange gasket job -- having to have a new one made and fitting it myself unsatisfactorily. We are gradually completing essential business in Kano. The peaceful atmosphere at the club has contrasted with the bustle and annoyances of life in the town itself. Traffic is largely bicycles, with or without extensive displays of souvenirs for sale; also many 'lorry buses' -- passenger-carrying lorries, nearly always crammed with people inside and round the edges, and always with 'No Standing' written on the back , and usually decorated with floral designs or at least bright colours and none without such slogans as 'Jesus Saves', 'God Bless T. Moruba' or 'Praise to Allah' blazoned on the front in English or, presumably, Hausa. Destination boards non-existent. We bought petrol at 5/- a gallon and collected more letters and Christmas cards from the post office.

Dec 17. Sunday.

Church this morning for the first time since leaving home. A family service not quite so exclusively British as was the children's church.

Then out to visit the walled old city. First to Dala Hill for an aerial view. This is one of the two rocky knobs of ironstone hills on the flat Kano plain, and is the original site of the town and the reason for its existence. Kano is vast when seen spread out from here; the jumbled maze of mud-built houses immediately below us and the more modern buildings among trees beyond. It was very hot. We spied some trees not far off, which looked like a good shady lunch venue. It was a graveyard, but pleasantly situated among euphorbia bushes. Then into the old city market place where Bo and Marion at last bought material for making mosquito nets. We had purposely not brought these from home, having been assured that they would be easily obtainable here. Not so. A bright red British pillar box outside the post office seemed completely out of place amongst the market stalls. Relics of British rule crop up in odd places. We climbed up the minaret of the mosque for another aerial view, we passed by the emir's palace and left the old city through a concrete reconstruction of the gateway by which the British first entered in 1903. We passed a groundnut stacking area with huge pyramidal stacks of sacks. There must have been millions and millions of peanuts. We bought two saucersful from a woman by the roadside for threepence.

Finally, goodbye to Kano at 4pm. Got mixed up in closed and diverted roads, took on board a guide to show us the way out, and set off on the road to Maiduguri.

Camped 24 miles out between a field of millet and a garden of some other corn, near the village of Wubil. Rather too much cultivation now and too many straw hut villages for easy camping. We again attracted a group of interested young onlookers and one was brave enough to speak to us in poor English. His name was Ide. Marion made herself popular by finding the Hausa names for some of the crops in her new agricultural book -- Dawa (millet) and Maiwa (Guinea corn) were the two growing here.

Good to be out in the country again after the hottest day so far (32C). A much cooler evening. We called this site 'Dawa and Maiwa'. Peanuts with our evening coffee have become a regular snack now.

Dec 18.

Sunrise accompanied by a medley of birdsong. Continuation of a wide tarmac road with a diversion or two where bridges were under construction, and one ford over a small river.

In the village of Birni Nkudu we saw a notice to 'Rock Paintings', We found someone who could get keys and we were given a tour of the three sites. Various little hills of huge boulders were dotted round about. At the first we had a demonstration of a rock sounding like a drum when beaten, the next had a few indistinct paintings viewable only by climbing a crack and lying on one's back on a ledge, and finally the best display which required no key or even a guide. Paintings of animals, mostly cows in red , black or white, some solid, some in outline only, probably of three different ages; but our guide was incapable of giving any information.

More road diversions later. Slow progress. Baobab trees were a feature of the day. We stopped to study one. They have fat swollen trunks and large hanging fruit of bulky pods covered with 'velvet'. Two small green parrots with lemon underparts and white heads were investigating a hole in it, perhaps for nesting. Also a shimmering blue parrot flashing like a kingfisher. "I paced round a baobab tree", says Peter, "it was 36 of my paces ! (It was 22 of Bo's paces)." At another stop when Marion was walking through bushes disturbing the grasshoppers; a large black hawk was trying to catch them as they flew away. At our night's camp site in an uncultivated scrubby area enclosed by little thorn trees, unknown bushes and large baobabs, we found two weaver birds' nests, woven grass balls, each with a hole in the side for entry, hanging from twigs like presents on a Christmas tree. Our first tropical bush camp site. Too well hidden to attract visitors. The area is a 'Forest Reserve. No Hunting'. Sounds of distant drum beats and pipe music at night.

Dec 19.

New sights and sounds in abundance today. Flags along the roadside welcomed us to Potiskum. No sooner had we stopped in the town than we saw ahead a grand procession crossing the road -- gaily caparisoned horses on which rode richly robed figures, trumpeters and swordsmen. We followed the crowd and were led to the front of the palatial arched entrance of what we presumed was the Emir's residence. Here a ceremony took place with much sword drawing and shouting. We discovered that the chief figure in golden robes was the Emir himself. The celebrations were in honour of his return home. It was quickly made clear that we had parked the van in the wrong place and had to move to the side of the wide sandy road. Just as well. A few minutes later the road was miraculously cleared and galloping horses came charging up three abreast making straight for the Emir's front door. They stopped just in time and then galloped back again. Several such races followed in quick succession. The roof of the' Explorer' made a perfect grandstand for us.

Then the drums began, and people were gathering into circles to watch dancing displays. I managed to get a place in a tree for aerial photos of one group. The dance was more of a revolving shuffle by a line of young girls in gay blue and white dresses and five youths in drab shirts and trousers. Altogether an exciting and unusual morning's entertainment.

One change in Nigeria from the Arab countries is that people like to be photographed without demanding payment. When Bo went to photograph an ox cart the oxen were hitched up to the cart specially for the occasion. Ox carts are definitely in vogue here in Bornu province, there having been none in Kano.

At a mid-afternoon stop we saw many birds and butterflies by a dense reed-bed in a lake of uninviting water in which grew large white water lilies. A jacana bird was walking on the lily leaves. A grey heron with black wing edges, streaky ducks with black eye stripes, and a brown and white mottled bittern. Herds of the local mixed varieties of long-horned humped cattle were drinking; some of these magnificent horns were a good two feet long. Other birds included a red-cheeked cordon bleu with bright blue underparts, a relatively tame lark with dark eyestreak and a brilliantly coloured metallic blue shrike-like bird with long tail and chestnut wings, often sitting on telegraph wires. We saw cotton plants with the cotton bolls bursting open, groundnut plants (though their season is really over), and a crop like castor oil that might be cassava. We identified sweet potato and cocoyams at Potiskum market. The countryside is quite heavily populated, with frequent villages.

At Damatura we stopped for petrol and had to BUY water for the first time. It was delivered by a water carrier with a yoke of four kerosene cans; sixpence for five gallons (and for washing only). We camped in another forest reserve well off the road.

A full moon, but still a hazy atmosphere after the Harmattan. 141 miles today, despite all interesting delays.

Dec 20.

7.15 start so as to reach Maiduguri for shopping before the heat of the day. 70 miles. This is a large town, similar to Kano. We got water from a garage tap and started using sterilising tablets and will continue to do so. We found an Anglican church, met the vicar and received details of Christmas services. After shopping (and it was almost too hot in open air markets) we set off on a northerly diversion to Lake Tchad. 125 miles away, but could not be ignored, this almost mythical lake, for so long a feature of school geography lessons, and thought to be perhaps the least likely place ever to be visited -- the heart of Africa.

After lunch in a plantation of neem trees, the land gradually became semi desert with camels again in evidence. And a 35C temperature. But the road almost a motorway; double width tarmac with virtually no potholes. Why ? It goes only to Baga on the lake. We keep more or less cool enough while on the move with wind from the open windscreens to compensate for heat from the engine. We managed 92 miles before stopping to camp among scattered thorn bushes in the sand, the orange full moon rising just as we were finishing supper.

Conversation this morning while studying the 12 Christmas cards strung up in the van:-

"How many reindeer on this card ?" Timothy: "Three."
"How many children ?" "Five."
"How many holly leaves ?" "Seven."
"How many windows ?" (This on a picture of Ashdown House.) "Too many."
"Would you like to live in that house with too many windows ?" "Yes."
"But who would clean all the windows ?" "The grown-ups."

Dec 21.

We had to use the sand ladders for the first time to extricate ourselves. (And this beside the 'motorway' after we thought we had left the desert behind.) On attempting to drive away from the camp site over the loose sand we became very stuck only 100 yards from the road. They were highly successful; we were able to reverse out with the ladders inserted behind the back wheels. Peter was delighted to have used them at last. "I am glad we got out using the sand ladders". The chief delay was the removal and replacement of the ladders from under most of the luggage on the roof.

So on to Baga. A curious place. The tarmac stopped at the edge of the village (after two quite unnecessary roundabouts), and all the streets were deep in loose sand. We proceeded in four-wheel drive and thought we might well need to use the ladders again ! The great children's game here is jumping on the backs of vehicles and seeing how long it takes to be jolted off. Baga, built on the edge of the lake, is now three miles from it The area of lake is gradually diminishing after many years of increasing drought. But we did get there, to a smaller village by the water, and found what we had come to see -- Lake Tchad. "Jennifer thought Lake Chad was just like the sea because you could not see the other side," writes Peter.

A vast expanse of dirty water with fifty or more wooden boats and canoes drawn up on the muddy beach. One was sailing, others on the water were being punted or paddled. Piles of fish were being cleaned, dried in the sun, or fried and sold hot for immediate consumption. Various types of fish; one monster about seven feet long was proudly displayed for photographing. "Mummy thought it might weigh a hundredweight." Almost no one spoke English, but I did manage to arrange a family outing, just to be able to say that we had been boating on Lake Tchad. Only a twenty minute voyage, but interesting enough. Our canoe was punted from the stern with a second crew sitting in the bow. The depth of water was only about six feet, but the trimming of the boat seemed to be fairly critical, and Bo was active with the baler to overcome numerous leaks. "It was nice going along in a boat on Lake Chad." This boat had metal straps holding the two side planks together, but some were tied with leather thread and caulked with grass. The lake is surrounded by reedbeds, with many birds including a yellow wagtail, a black capped, yellow chested tit and a kind of plover. Marion also saw an attractive large bird with black cap and lovely chocolate wings; children were throwing stones at it, so it was probably a fish eater. The water level was so low that fishermen (with spears) were able to get out and walk in some places several hundred yards offshore. We later met two policemen ('Marine Division') who proudly showed us their two new launches on the shore; they had been unable to use them for months because of lack of water. Now seemed to be the time for illicit smuggling operations to Niger, Tchad or Cameroun., all of which border on the lake.

We had lunch between the two villages in an area of mauve convolvulus and pale yellow gourd or marrow flowers. There was green grass growing beside the lake too. Back through Baga ("Daddy bought a decorated metal pot"), crawling in four-wheel drive and "past the two roundabouts" on to the tarmac again. We camped in a similar place to last night, avoiding the loosest sand, a little south of Mongonu.

Fresh fish for supper ! Two varieties, but we know not what. Curious noises from several night birds serenaded us.

Dec 22.

A leisurely day. Schoolwork and letter writing. Then on towards Maiduguri with a stop at a village to buy meat and peanuts. A typical village; all the huts made of bamboo and thatched; none with mud walls; grain stores of similar construction. A few camels, people on horseback, rather gaunt cattle in the middle of this dry season, goats, sheep and donkeys, a woman pounding corn, various men sitting round surrounded by various wares for sale. We were directed to the well where we had our containers filled with hot water gushing from a standipe, presumably an artesian supply.

The main object of the day was to find a camp site attractive enough for a Christmas holiday, and eventually found a suitably secluded place among trees and bushes, which attracted no curious visitors, and was only four miles from the amenities of the town. We were welcomed by a tree-full of lovely golden bronze birds (sunbirds we thought, but bee eaters as we later learned). Dark heads with long curved beaks flashed green when caught by the sun, the bronze bodies turned to blue towards the back and were followed by long elegant black tails. We thought they would make a suitable substitute for Christmas robins.

Supper was below standard: caramelised tough meat (pressure cooker boiled dry), and under-ripe pineapple.

Dec 23.

Marion and I into Maiduguri for shopping. Changed money in the market in a street of money changers; we chose a fat Sudanese sitting on a mat on the ground among piles of notes and coins and managed to raise his offer of 7/- per dollar to 7/9d; and next to him was a cobbler sewing shoes. By coincidence I had in my hand my sandals in the hope of finding just such a facility. Where else would one find these two useful services side by side ? Once again a fascinating market. Marion bought fish that she reduced from five shillings to four.

Back to camp for lunch and an odd-jobbing afternoon, which included wallowing in the paddling pool for everyone. Marion started making a mosquito net for the children' tent, having had complaints last night and squashed 13 mosquitoes. I had to refill both differentials with oil, one still leaking a bit; but they had not been done since Tamanrasset. 6000 miles now since leaving England including all deviations.

Supper more successful tonight; superb fish, presumably from Lake Tchad again, and banana fritters. We made a fire of rubbish and wood and roasted our latest supply of peanuts.

Dec 24. Sunday.

Christmas Eve at the swimming pool at the Lake Chad Hotel. I took the van to have the exhaust gasket properly renewed; how pleasant to achieve this while relaxing in the pool. Read 'Wind, Sand and Stars' by Antoine de St. Exupery; some interesting desert experiences.

A disastrous lunch. We patronised the West End Club for a Nigerian meal. The chicken and rice, the only item on the menu, were so much Cayenne pepper that we could not manage it. The children burst into tears as soon as the food touched their lips, I could get through only a quarter of mine, Marion and Bo bravely ate all their meat but could not finish the rice. I fetched a jar from the van to take most of the remains away with us for washing, diluting and re-cooking for future enjoyment. We then bought more bread and had a picnic. Tea beside the pool was rather more successful with Marion's home made chocolate cakes.

A 5pm carol service at the Anglican church was inspiring. We were the only white people there, the lessons were half in English, some in Yoruba and one in Ibo. Everyone sang the carols loudly and cheerfully in the language of their choice and we all thoroughly enjoyed it. The choir (rather high-pitched) sang in English unaccompanied. Sitting in front of us were some fantastic gay headdresses; one lady had a baby strapped to her back who played around showing much interest in us and had to be taken out at intervals. I also made an exit at one point to fetch the tape recorder -- and Timothy wanted a book. So all this made a good preparation for Christmas.

We found our hidden camp site successfully in the dark, where the children had a cereal supper before hanging stockings on the side of the van. Marion, Bo and I also had a snack later (with rum coffee)....and made preparations for the morrow !

Dec 25.

Father Christmas had duly arrived in the night and stockings were full. Joyfully unpacked at sunrise on our beds. Breakfast was tomato juice, Muesli and variety cereal, coffee and toast. Marion and Bo went to the church again for Communion (still no white people), while the rest of us decorated a small tree with grasses, leaves, dolls' clothes and coloured papers. A herd of cows ambled by to the sound of pleasantly twanging music from a two-stringed guitar. The deeply tattooed cowherd musician said that this was his usual way of entertaining his herd. I made a recording of the performance. He was knocking the dead pods off the carob trees for the animals to eat. Then it was time for presents: we gave Peter and Jennifer an elegant bronze giraffe each that they had admired on a stall, and Timothy a set of three little baskets -- all local stuff. Bo had made excellent cards; Peter's showed the back of the 'Africa Explorer'; the doors opened and inside was Peter tucking into a flaming Christmas pudding. Not quite true to life, but our lunch was, we thought, worthy of the occasion today. Chicken, ham AND beef. The beef being tinned (corned), the ham tinned (York) and the chicken joints salvaged from yesterday's disaster, now washed free of the curry. All accompanied by tomatoes, and a lettuce and onion salad in a home made dressing. And, not least, fresh real lemonade. Real English Christmas pudding too with equally real rum butter. And an orange.

Then we all had rests in the shade, the temperature being now a normal 94 F. Peter and I played chess. Bo and I washed up. Jennifer read to me very efficiently from her book; I was not aware that she had advanced so far. The paddling pool provided a good cooling off for everyone. A 'vingt-et-un' session during which a very young kid strayed to see us. Marion and Jennifer later carried it back to rejoin its herd in the nearby village and delivered it into, we hope, responsible hands. They found the local cemetery, with several fresh graves, only 100 yards from our camp. A hornbill came to visit us. Black and white with a dark eye stripe and a long black bill, it has a curious haunting call of two notes at different speeds. We had a sunset dance round the decorated tree, a tea with iced Dundee cake and animal biscuits, and a rather tired out carol singing with six carols of our choice before bed for the children. Letter writing later in the evening to the accompaniment of the beautiful singing of the Charterhouse choir softly in the background.

Peter's diary has a long list of presents, including a sixpence in the bottom of their stockings (the last we will ever see ?), various books and 'Travel Scrabble'; and concludes: "I have had a happy Christmas Day."

Dec 26.

With desert recuperation and Christmas holidays over, we set off south once more into tropical central Africa.

Back into Maiduguri for 75 gallons of petrol, up to our full capacity, in expectation of higher prices ahead. And shopping for more colour films and fresh fish, both likely to be scarce in Cameroun. "I was given a fish and a tomato", says Peter. A short visit to a customs post, then the last 40 miles or more of tarmac road to Bama, before missing a turning with an uninformative sign, retracing the wrong road for three miles, and finally heading correctly for Dar Jammal and the border.

The road is now single track rutted sand again, unexpectedly, and we are camped beside the bed of a dried-up lakelet in highly cultivated country with wells and irrigation schemes and frequent villages.

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